


right from the start i knew

by 2wistful



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, silk robes??, sort of canon but not really, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:45:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4425410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2wistful/pseuds/2wistful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zayn and harry in silk robes. there isn't much else, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	right from the start i knew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dutty (vodka)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodka/gifts).



> for kris. never stop having weird midday in depth discussions about zarry. title is from wake me by bleachers

Harry didn’t usually do things like this. 

It had all started last week, when he was down on Rodeo Drive with Jeff - just casually strolling down the sidewalk, poking through the shops, taking photos with the occasional fan, when Harry had seen them. 

There, in the window of Louis Vuitton, was a display. Not just any display, mind. It was a display of robes, all wildly patterned in an array of colors. One in particular stood out to him, a deep blue thing with white flowers and trailing jade vines, blue tigers and lions among them. Next to it was a black robe, splashed with bright coral and peach floral arrangements, dotted with smaller yellow flowers.

Impulsively, he ducked into the shop, leaving a slightly bewildered Jeff to fend for himself.

+++

The tall, charming salesgirl had told him they were 100% silk, imported from a country whose name slid smoothly across her tongue but stumbled across his. 

He bought them both. 

+++

Later that night, he admired the way the silk clung lightly to his arms and his thighs in the slightly humid air of the bathroom. He had lit a few candles and had a bath, then thought it was only fitting to try on his new robe. 

It wasn’t the same though, not without Zayn there to admire the way the candlelight reflected from the drops of water still on his calves or the way a few wispy hairs escaped from his bun and clung to the back of his neck. 

Zayn had texted about two weeks ago, informing Harry in a short sentence that he’d be in LA the following week. The same week Harry would be in Chicago, and several cities in Canada. Harry didn’t reply. Now Harry was back in LA, and didn’t know if Zayn had stayed. 

Somewhat resigned already, he opened up his iMessage and sent a small query to see if Zayn were still in the city, then turned off his screen, as if that would make Zayn’s reply hurt less if it were to appear in the negative. 

His phone buzzed, and the screen lit up almost as soon as it had shut off. Startled, Harry swiped to view the message, and there it was: Zayn wasn’t leaving until the day after tomorrow. 

Heart beating almost erratically, Harry typed back a reply:  
_Good, cos I have a gift for you. You can swing by my place tomorrow if you like. x_

The small bubble to signify Zayn’s typing popped up, and Harry chewed at the inside of his cheek.

_a gift ?! :p  
I’ll come around 2 if thats ok_

_That’s fine_ , Harry replied. _The key is in the loose brick. You can let yourself in_

Almost a minute later, after Harry was sure that was the end of the conversation, another message popped up:

_I remember_

+++

Waiting for Zayn to arrive the next day was torture. If Harry had smoked, he would have gone through at least two packs that morning. As it turned out, he listened to all his Fleetwood Mac albums in a row, which for him was almost the same thing. 

Harry ended up dozing off midway through Future Games on his basement couch, waking up to the familiar smell of cigarette smoke, and weed, with a hint of cologne. 

‘Your hair!’ Were the first words out of Harry’s mouth, and Zayn’s eyes crinkled a bit at the sides as he smiled and nodded. 

‘Yeah, shaved it all off, didn’t I?’

Harry reached up to touch it, then hesitated, before Zayn leaned in to press his cheek to Harry’s palm.

‘I’ve missed you, H.’, Zayn told him softly, and Harry could only get out a choked ‘me too’, before Zayn leaned in and pressed his lips against Harry’s.

Zayn’s lips were warm and soft, and he didn’t waste any time, opening his mouth against Harry’s, whose own mouth was hot and needy, his body unyieldingly pressing against Zayn’s, both of their breathing coming in short little gasps. 

‘What time is your flight tomorrow?’ Harry got out. 

‘Three.’ Zayn exhaled. 

‘Thank god.’

+++

The next morning, Zayn woke up to an empty bed. A smirk crept across his face as a remembered the events of the previous night, and he settled back against the pillows with a satisfied noise. 

A crash sounded from down the stairs, from what Zayn assumed was the kitchen. Somewhat reluctantly, he sat up to investigate, glancing around the room for a pair of pants. Not that he really minded being naked around Harry, he was just wary of paparazzi and their telephoto lenses. The only apparent piece of clothing in the room was hanging from the closet door, and once Zayn realized what it was, he couldn’t stop another grin from spreading across his features. 

He removed the robe from the hanger, and put it on, relishing in the way the silk slid across his body. The sleeves were longer, but the bottom of the robe came only to the middle of Zayn’s thighs, brushing cool and pleasant against his skin. 

Zayn made his way down the stairs, feeling elegant in a inane sort of way, like a child playing dress up in a serious manner. 

At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped short. For there was Harry, standing at the toaster in a robe similar to his, only it was ostentatiously Harry: a loud floral piece that exposed his entire abdomen. A flush spread across Harry’s chest; Zayn pretended not to notice. 

Relieved that Zayn had seen the robe and elated that he had put it on, Harry turned to the refrigerator to grab the orange juice and also mask any emotion that might make an appearance on his face. Harry wasn’t sure why he felt this way around Zayn whenever he decided to do something forward with clothing. 

Ever since Zayn had handed him that American flag bandana at their concert in Hershey two years ago, ever since Zayn had given him that smile when Harry put the bandana on his head and praised how it looked, Harry had wanted to impress Zayn with _all_ his clothing choices. It was important. It would always be important.

Harry turned back around, pouring the orange juice into a small ceramic mug with no handle, and gave it to Zayn, who curiously appraised the mug before taking a delicate sip. Harry just watched silently, admiring the way Zayn’s eyelashes fanned out above his cheekbones, so much more noticeable now that Zayn’s hair wasn’t competing for attention 

‘This has no pulp.’ Zayn stated after a moment, gazing at Harry. 

‘I know.’ Harry looked away, and cleared his throat. ‘You should get back to your hotel-‘ 

‘You like orange juice with pulp.’ 

‘I was hopeful.’ 

‘Harry?’ Zayn said after a moment. 

Harry glanced back at Zayn, an expectant look on his face. 

‘Zayn?’ 

‘I love the gift.’ 

‘You mean that?’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

They both smiled, and Zayn took another sip of his orange juice. 


End file.
